Do Not Go Gentle (50 page)

Her fatigue easing, Sedecla sought the source of the sense of disquiet that had fallen over her. She felt as if there were something wrong, something threatening, something requiring her immediate attention. The
shedim
was throbbing as well, almost resonating in warning. Sedecla sat with her eyes closed and her other senses opened to their fullest. After several moments, she nodded slightly, then reached out and summoned Zahava. “Send Gonzalez back in,” she ordered.

Moments later, Emilio Gonzalez entered the room. “
Qedesh
?” While not a true believer as ibn Ezra, most of the Mazzimah addressed her using the same title as that used by the Disciples.

“I believe you shall soon have the opportunity to prove your value to me, Emilio,” Sedecla said.

A smile emerged on his unhandsome face. “Indeed? Do they come,
Qedesh
?” Gonzalez respected the woman's uncanny abilities.

“I think so, yes. If not this moment, they will arrive sometime today. See to the troops, Emilio. Make certain they are ready.”

“It shall be so,
Qedesh
. You can count on me.” Gonzalez began to exit, and then paused for a moment when Sedecla spoke again.

“I hope so. For your sake, Emilio, I hope so.”

Gonzalez left without response.

* * * *

Jamie could barely see Louie's hulking form in front of him. The snow, which had subsided earlier, had returned and an icy wind whipped it over and around them penetrating his winter parka. Hanrahan, taller and heavier than Lombardi, was easier to spot, since his coat was bright green. He had refused to change into something less noticeable. Darcelle was almost invisible—she had donned a white, wool coat over white ski pants and was wrapped in white outerwear.

They made their way across Copp's Hill, moving in a drunken line from one stand of trees to another.

Although right now, I'm not sure anyone could actually see us in this snow.

Jamie looked to his side and saw Lucy, who nodded at him. Then he looked behind and saw the dim forms of Ríordán and Daphné. Like Darcelle, Daphné was dressed all in white and difficult to spot. Lucy and Ríordán, unlike the druid, had agreed to camouflage themselves. Lucy was in pale colors, which blended into the winter landscape. Ríordán was in black, which at least hid him in the shadows.

They reached the trees on the north side of Hull Street. As far as Jamie could tell, they were undetected. He drew everyone close enough to hear over the wind. “Okay, let's cross the street and pause under the trees there,” he said, pointing to Sedecla's townhouse.

They did so, and then everyone looked to Jamie. He swung his duffel bag in front of him, looked up and down the street, then at the buildings in front of him. Again, Jamie pulled everyone close, but spoke softer this time, his voice barely audible above the wind. “Do you see or sense anyone watching us?”

Louie, Daphné, and Darcelle shook their heads, as did Lucy and Ríordán. Hanrahan gazed for a moment, and then he shrugged. “I sense watchfulness, but nothing indicating we have been detected.”

Jamie nodded. “Okay, then—wish me luck.” He walked forward, putting his right hand out behind him indicating that the others should remain. Pulling his cell phone from his coat pocket, Jamie paused halfway to the door. “Eileen?” he asked as loud as he dared.

“I hear you. The wind is making it hard, but I hear you,” Eileen replied.

“Don't fret—once the gunfire starts, you'll hear it. I'm going to open the outer door and then we're going in.” Jamie looked at his watch. “It's 4:35 by my watch—give us five minutes, then dial 911.”

“Even if I don't hear anything? What if I hear all hell break loose sooner?”

“I think after five minutes inside, we'll need backup, but use your best judgment,” Jamie replied. “I trust you as much as I love you—with all of my heart.”

Eileen choked back a sob. “You come back or I'm going to be seriously pissed off.”

“A swear word. I better make sure I come back. Love you.” Jamie put the phone in his pocket and crossed to the door. The external door lock was still a mechanical deadbolt. Jamie removed the LockAid from his bag and put it to the lock, carefully applying tension and dropping the pins in the lock. Once all of the pins dropped, he applied pressure, and the door opened with a soft click.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, gesturing for the others to join him.

* * * *

Sedecla bolted upright on her couch, dropping her coffee cup, which crashed on the floor, shattering into dozens of ceramic shards. She nearly dropped the statue, but clutched it to her breast before it could fall. The crash brought Zahava into the room. “Emilio,” Sedecla ordered curtly. “
Now
.”

Emilio Gonzalez entered the room a few seconds later. “
Qedesh
?”

“They are at the front door, Emilio.” Sedecla's voice seethed with a mixture of anger, anticipation, and wonder. She had believed they would come to her, but it surprised her nonetheless. “Alert everyone—I want O'Neill's plan executed just as we discussed.”

Gonzalez nodded curtly. “It shall be so,
Qedesh
,” he replied, dashing from the room, speaking into a wrist communicator as he left.

* * * *

Jamie crept into the foyer, which was unchanged since his previous visit. As the others joined him, Jamie winced—the tile and wood floor caused each step to echo off the brick walls. “Hssst,” he whispered, hoping to reduce the noise, and then he gestured for Daphné to shut the door behind her. In the ensuing darkness, Jamie held both hands out, and the others stopped one by one as they encountered his hands or the person in front of them.

No one spoke, and all they could hear was the sound of their breaths reverberating softly in the foyer. Jamie turned on a flashlight mounted to straps around his head. The bright beam flooded the room, revealing oak hardwood floors, inlaid red and black ceramic tile, and brick walls. Turning his head to the left, Jamie illuminated the archway and the room where Sedecla had received Cal, Ramirez, and him back in September.

A lifetime ago,
Jamie thought.
Cal and Ramirez are both dead now.
Jamie pushed those thoughts out of his mind and gestured for the others to stay as he stepped forward to cast light throughout the office. It looked empty, and Jamie saw no one on the spiral staircase.

Turning back, he brought them close together so he could whisper. “Okay, Ríordán and Daphné, you stay here. Watch the staircase until I get the next door open—once I do, you're the last ones through, closing the door behind you. Hanrahan, Louie, and Darcelle will take the lead, then Lucy and me. Same procedure for any other doors we encounter.”

“I don't like this,” Louie rasped.

“Don't like what?” Jamie asked.

“Don't like that there's no one here,” he replied, gesturing to the empty room.

“It's called a trap, Aloysius. We knew this wasn't going to be easy. Plus, we don't know what's beyond that door,” Jamie replied.

“
Faccia di merda
,” Louie muttered.

“So's your mother,” Jamie replied hoarsely as he turned to face the door. Unlike the outer door, an electronic lock with a keypad secured the interior door. After examining it for a moment, Jamie nodded. “Looks like I can spike it,” he said, mostly to himself.

He took out the screwdrivers, and within seconds, had removed the keypad. “There we go,” he continued, pointing to the small hole that lay at the top of the lock's guts. Taking one of the thin, hooked wires from the case, Jamie pulled out the internal wires and shorted the lock into opening moments later. “Okay, let's go,” he said, pulling open the door inward an inch at a time.

They entered a tiled passageway, with restored bricks lining the walls. It was narrow, perhaps four feet across and seven feet in height, stretching away to their left. To their immediate right was another door. A series of overhead lights provided dim illumination down the length of the corridor.

Darcelle slowly opened the door to the right and shone her headlamp inside, then pulled back after a moment, closing the door quietly. She gave a thumbs-up, and then mimed driving a car to indicate it was the townhouse's garage. Jamie nodded in response, and then pointed with his left hand, indicating that she should lead down the tunnel with Hanrahan and Louie.

They crept in silence down the tunnel for about a hundred feet, where another door and another electronic lock confronted them. The door was their only option for continuing. Jamie stepped forward with his duffel bag. He again removed the screws that held the keypad to the door. This time, however, there was no hole for Jamie to access the internal wires. Nodding, he pulled the magnet out of its protective box, and then held it up to the lock. After passing it back and forth several times, Jamie opened the door with a soft click. He replaced the magnet. Then, looking around to make sure everyone was ready, he opened the door and followed the lead trio into a much larger room.

* * * *

“Steady, now,” Emilio Gonzalez whispered into his wrist communicator. “Everyone maintain your positions.” His words came out of tiny ear buds into the heads of the nearly fifty heavily armed men positioned around the amphitheater. “We execute the plan exactly as O'Neill outlined. No one so much as twitches until I give the word.” He smiled, grim and nasty upon his scarred face.
You screwed up big-time, Timmy. This is
my
show now, and I'm gonna be happy to take your place when it's done.

* * * *

Louie and Darcelle stepped through the doorway first, with Hanrahan immediately behind them. The rest followed in order. As they entered the dark room, Jamie saw that the walls receded into a much larger space. Theater style chairs perched in two rows in front of them. As the room opened up, there were conference tables and chairs in the middle of the room, banks of electronics along the sidewalls, and a raised stage at the far end of the room.

Upon reaching the stage, Darcelle raised her right fist, signaling a stop. Everyone looked around, wondering where to go next. Every nerve in Jamie's body was jangling.
I think we're about to have their trap sprung on us.
He gestured in response to everyone's silent query about what to do next—wait and watch.

They didn't wait long. The amphitheater went from pitch black to blazing light in a heartbeat. As they stood blinking to regain their sight, Jamie heard the sound of many feet stepping into the room at the same moment. “Hold your fire,” Jamie called out, worried that Louie or one of the twins might be startled into starting a firefight they couldn't win. More often than not, a case of nerves started guns firing.

“A wise decision, Detective Griffin,” a man said as he stepped out from the far corner of the room. He was Hispanic, of average height and weight, but he somehow looked familiar to Jamie.

“I know you,” Jamie said, trying in vain to place the man who was the obvious leader of the dozens of men who now surrounded them.

Strolling to stand about five feet in from of Jamie, the man bowed mockingly. “I'm flattered you recall my face, Detective Griffin. Emilio Gonzalez, at your service.”

Looking around the room, Jamie could see that they were outnumbered at least five-to-one—ten-to-one if you only counted the armed members of Jamie's group. “So what happens now, Gonzalez? Where's your boss? Is she going to face us or is she hiding somewhere while you do her dirty work?”

“Tough talk for someone who's outgunned.”

“Maybe,” Louie growled, “but I bet I can take you out before you knock me down.” The tension in the room, already high, mounted toward a breaking point.

“Unless you do something stupid, none of my men are going to start shooting, except at my command,” a female voice said from the other side of the room.

Everyone turned to look at Sedecla as she glided into view. She was dressed in comfortable tunics—red and black, bound by a gold woven belt. Her hair was tied back in a tight braid, and her hazel eyes focused on Jamie. “You have been quite the thorn in my side, Detective Griffin.”

“Well, based on what I've seen lady, you deserve a lot worse,” Jamie replied in an even voice. He had been in several confrontations over the years. Jamie knew that he had to stay calm and keep his wits about him if he and his team were to have any chance of survival.

* * * *

Other than Jamie, the voices were muffled, but audible. Eileen frowned at her cell phone. She could barely make out Gonzalez's words, but once Sedecla entered the room and spoke, Eileen could clearly hear both sides of the conversation. After listening for a few moments, Eileen made up her mind—she punched the “end” button on her phone, then called Sully's home phone. Jamie had told her to call 911, which she would—right after giving Sully a “heads up.” They would still be behind Boston 911, but at least she could get him up and moving. Eileen also knew that Sully would call Frank Griffin. Her heart beating as fast as a Gene Krupa drum solo, Eileen listened to the ringing. She started saying a prayer, half-aloud at first, then only in her mind when she heard a groggy Bob Sullivan answer the phone—“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle— ”